


Cruelest Design

by scheherazade



Category: Big Bang (Band), Korean Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:57:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1293886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherazade/pseuds/scheherazade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chunhee is looking for a word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruelest Design

**Author's Note:**

> Suggested music: ["If" - Taeyeon](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3K7mXSg8EAw). Because it's the song that makes Chunhee cry.

Summer comes sudden to the mountains and the sea. In Seoul it's harder to track the changing seasons, chauffeured between one building and the next, the inside of cars tinted and heated or cooled as want demands.

 _Hurry up and wait_ becomes their unofficial motto in Bibongneh. By the time the island-stranded cast and crew finally make it back, the PD has pushed the morning start time from seven-thirty to eight to finally nine. Jaesuk falls asleep almost before the lights are off, Hyori's ironic "thank god" muffled amidst the shift of blankets and soft, slow breathing.

Chunhee wakes up in the dark. As usual Daesung has reached for whomever was closest, needing human contact even in his dreams. One arm curls around Chunhee's chest, knees drawn up as two spots of warmth against Chunhee's leg. The silence makes it hard to think. 

Carefully, he maneuvers Daesung around a pillow instead. Quietly, he slips outside. The night feels cool on the back of his neck. He sits on the porch and looks for a word easier than _goodbye_.

The door opens and shuts again. He turns his head to a soft touch on his arm. Daesung folds himself down close enough for their elbows to align.

"Did I wake you?"

"Mm." Daesung rests his head on Chunhee's shoulder. "Why're you up?"

His hand fits naturally at Daesung's skinny hip. "I don't know."

"Not tired from scuba diving?"

"I got my license. I'm used to it."

"M'used to dance," Daesung mumbles. "Still get tired. Jiyong doesn't believe in breaks."

"You work hard."

"Mmhmm."

A mistimed bird chirps beyond the garden wall. Daesung smells musky with sleep and linen, hair tickling Chunhee's mouth as he settles closer. Chunhee lets himself stay, pressed like a kiss to his brow. 

"I can hear you thinking, you know."

"Ah. Really?"

"What are you thinking about?"

Chunhee looks for another word. "Beautiful things."

"Like what?"

"Like—" _goodbye, transience, forget-me-not,_ "—you." 

He's pretty sure he meant to say _God_. Daesung lifts his head to grin at him, face bright as a festival moon. Chunhee only regrets the distance needed to see. Daesung's hand curls over his shoulder, against his neck, a gesture of absolutes. Chunhee bows his head. Their temples come together, arched by some nameless keystone.

There should be a word for the one breath between their lips.

"No one's awake," Daesung says.

Chunhee breathes the stillness. "We should go back inside."

Daesung doesn't argue. "Hyori-noona wants to do karaoke again."

"When?"

"She said Wednesday."

Three days. He says, "Okay. I'll call you."

"Not if I call you first."

"Or she does."

"Yeah, probably."

And she will. They will. They still exist outside of the Family, tempting as this bubble may be. There are words for clinging, too many words for cloying, but never enough for the wholeness that is this: thirty-six hours in a stranger's home, fourteen days interloping, marked by absence and phone calls at all times. Daesung speaks whatever comes to his mind. Without a camera watching, he loses the compulsion to make everything a joke. His smiles are softer. His words bear no scars.

Daesung shifts until he's leaning against Chunhee again. From this angle they can both see the horizon. Stars hang like fairy lights upon silhouetted trees.

"What are you going to do, when we go back?"

"Studio," Daesung answers immediately. "Seungri thinks he's a real artist now, and Youngbae's humoring him."

"No, I meant — after. "

"After what?"

"After the show. After all of this."

There's a pause.

"We'll still see each other," Daesung says. His voice is inflected with a shadow: _Won't we?_

Chunhee shrugs. "Will it be the same?"

"Why wouldn't it?"

"I don't know."

"You're worried about something."

"It's nothing."

"What aren't you telling me?"

Chunhee can't bring himself to say _my last day_. This show — these days — they will continue. Paths separate, leaf and branch. He selfishly wishes it were otherwise.

Finally, Daesung laughs to break the silence. "Ah, anyway, there's still half a year. Maybe I'll get sick of you and propose to Hyori-noona for real."

"She might say yes."

"Would you?"

"I'm not her type."

"I don't mean her."

A breath. And another. Beside him, Daesung is very still. 

"You're dreaming again." The words feel clumsy in his mouth. They're not the right ones, but escape plans are never meant to be right. "Fell asleep with your eyes open."

Daesung takes his time. "Maybe," he says. "I don't mind."

And he doesn't know what he's looking for, when Daesung rubs slowly down the ridges of his spine. If his skin were a map there might be something to find. Once, he thought he would learn to let go with grace. Somehow, he never expected desire to be God's cruelest design.

He closes his eyes when Daesung kisses him.


End file.
